Chapter 22

SUNRISE CABIN

Betty was not with any one of their acquaintances, for Polly telephoned everybody they knew before leaving the Ashton house.

Then a possibility suddenly dawning upon her, she hurried forth, feeling that anything was better than remaining longer indoors.

All of the Sunrise Hill Camp Fire girls were in the habit of taking frequent walks to their forsaken log cabin. And as Betty wished to be alone and especially needed the strength and consolation that its happy memories could give her, probably she had gone out there. Under most circumstances Polly would have respected her friend's desire for solitude, but Betty must already have been at the cabin for some time by herself and the dusk would soon come down upon her and she would be hurt and lonely, with all her familiar world fallen about her feet.

No one else must learn of her pilgrimage, since Betty might forgive her presence and yet could not rally to meet the astonishment and sympathy of any other of her friends. So Polly told several impatient fibs to the persons who insisted upon learning where she intended going, before she was able to get outside of Woodford and into the blessed solitude of the country lanes.

The air was colder by this time and light flurries of snow kept blinding her eyes as she hurried along. However, she had not so forgotten her training in woodcraft as not to recognize signs of Betty's having preceded her along almost the same route; for here and there, where the earth had thawed in the midday warmth, there were impressions of the Princess' shoes. And she even picked up a small crushed handkerchief which had been dropped by the way.

Therefore in spite of her depression over Mrs. Ashton's information, Polly was beginning to get a kind of hold upon herself. For it was her place, if she possibly could manage it, to persuade Betty that, after all, life was not so utterly changed by yesterday's discovery. If Mrs. Ashton and Dick were not her own mother and brother, they themselves knew no difference. And there would be no change in her friends' affections. Then, she had gained Esther as a sister, Esther who was so big in her nature, so unselfish and fine. No wonder she had always seemed to care for Betty with a devotion no one of them could explain. And how hard it must have been loving her as she did to have made no claim upon her.

"Hello, Miss Polly," an unexpected voice cried out, and to Polly's utter vexation she beheld Billy Webster coming toward her from the path that led through his father's woods.

She bowed coldly, hoping that her coldness might be her salvation, since she did not wish to waste time in conversation with him, nor to explain why she was in such a hurry to go on with her walk. But Billy was apparently not influenced by Polly's present attitude, being too accustomed to her moods.

"May I walk along with you?" he inquired politely enough. "I was just out for exercise, with no special place in mind where I wished to go, and I should ever so much rather have you as a companion."

It was on the tip of Polly's tongue to exclaim, "But I would so much rather not have you!" However, she suddenly recalled having promised Mollie to be as polite to Billy as she could and not to bear malice any longer. So she merely shook her head. "I am sorry, but I am in a great hurry," she explained. "For you see I came out with a very special place in mind to which I wish to go immediately."

Billy laughed, rather a big, splendid, open-hearted laugh. Polly was amusing, in no matter what temper she might happen to be.

"But I won't interfere with your destination and I certainly can manage to walk as fast as you can," he announced calmly, keeping close to the girl's side, although her rapid walking had developed almost into a run, and she was nearly out of breath.

Well, if she could not outwalk him and could not manage to get rid of him in any other way, Polly decided that she would at least keep perfectly silent until he had the sense to go away of his own accord. It was still some distance before she could reach the cabin.

However, as Billy was doing a great deal of talking, he appeared not to be aware of her unusual silence.

"Look here, Miss Polly, I have been thinking of something for a long time--several months, in fact," he declared. "And I have about come to the conclusion that maybe I was pretty domineering in the way in which I behaved to you in New York. Of course I still consider that acting business a dreadful thing for you to have done which might have brought consequences that you could not imagine. But I ought to have tried to persuade you to stop or to write your mother, and not to have bullied you. I want you to believe, though, that it was because I like you so much that I went all to pieces over the idea of anything happening to you--your getting ill or somebody being rude to you. Great Scott! but I am glad that you have given up that foolish idea of going upon the stage and have settled down quietly in Woodford!"

Polly turned a pair of astonished blue eyes upon her companion, who happened at the moment to be gazing up toward the sky where the snow clouds were growing heavier.

"You are very kind to be interested in my welfare, I am sure," she replied, trying her best not to let sarcastic tones creep into her voice. "And of course I realized that your friendship for Mollie and mother made you feel that you had the right to express your opinion very frankly to me. But you are mistaken if you believe that I have given up my foolish notion of going upon the stage. Of course I appreciate now that I was wrong in betraying mother's trust and in trying that experiment in acting without her consent. So I have accepted my punishment and made my bargain. But just the same, when I am twenty-one, I mean to try again with all my strength and power and to keep on trying until I ultimately succeed."

Billy Webster closed his lips with a look of peculiar obstinacy.

"Three years is a long time," he answered, "and you might as well know that though I am fond of Mollie and always will be, it is you I really care about. Oh yes, I realize that there are hours when I almost hate you, but that is because you dislike me and because I can't get you to do what I wish. Still, you might as well understand that I intend doing everything in my power for the next three years to make you stay in Woodford when the time is up and to make you stay because you love me."

And then before Polly was able to get her breath or to stamp her foot or in any possible way to relieve her feelings, the young man had marched away through an opening at one side of the path, without even stopping once to glance back at her.

It was out of the question then for Polly to decide whether she was the more angry, astonished or amused. Of course it was absurd for Billy Webster to conceive of having any emotion for her except one of disapproval. He was simply so obstinate and so sure of himself that he wanted to make her like him, because he knew that she almost hated him. And if it had not been for Mollie, she would have suffered no "almost" in her dislike.

Really the confusion and protest that the young man's words had awakened in her mind, coming on top of the disclosure about Betty, made Polly feel as if she had suddenly taken leave of her senses. And as it is a rather good scheme when one is unable to think clearly, to give up thinking at all for the time being, the girl started running in the direction of the cabin, so fast that she had opportunity for no other impulse or impression except forcing herself to keep up the desired speed.

By a camp fire, which Betty had built for herself, Polly discovered her friend sitting on a stool with her elbow in her lap and her head resting on her hand. She did not seem astonished or annoyed by her friend's entrance. When Polly came forward and kissed her she merely said, "I am glad you know, Polly. I hope you did not have a very cold walk. It was not snowing when I came out." Then she began piling more logs on her fire.

Later the two girls had an intimate talk.

"It is odd, Polly, but I don't feel as wretched as I should have expected I would," Betty explained, speaking as much to herself as to her companion. "I think perhaps it is intended for me to have my illusions shattered earlier in life than other people have them--I think possibly because I have been vainer and more foolish. At first I presume I used to have a kind of unconscious satisfaction in our having more money than other people and in being able to do almost anything for my friends that I wished. Then when the money went away I thought, well, perhaps money does not make so much difference if one has an old family and a name of which one may be proud. But in these last few hours, sitting here by myself I have begun to appreciate more fully what our Camp Fire organization is trying so hard to teach us. It is that all we girls are alike in the essential things, only that some of us have been given better opportunities and more friends. There is only one thing that really counts, I suppose, and that is not so much what other people do for us, as what we are able to do for ourselves, what kind of women we are able to grow into. So you see that though I believe I was struggling to save the old Ashton house because all my distinguished ancestors had been living there for generation after generation and I wanted to have babies of my own to inherit it some day, now I am even happier because perhaps I have saved it for Dick and mother by my plan and maybe it will repay them a little for all they have done for me."

"I don't think the debt is on your side, dear," Polly returned loyally.

But already Betty had risen from her stool and was looking around for her cloak and cap.

"Let us hurry home now; we shall have a glorious walk!" she exclaimed. "I have been away from mother long enough and I do want to write to Esther. She has got to come to see me for a few days, or else I am going to her. Don't worry; I shall not forget the seven points of our Camp Fire star."